


the hut outside the village

by NachouPala



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: 30 years after tdc, Safe Haven (Maze Runner), because no one needs your shitty 73 years later book mr dashner, but not a fix-it i'm sorry, implied thominewt if you want to, implied thominho, rather descriptive without dialogue, sad shit, they are still healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29899137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachouPala/pseuds/NachouPala
Summary: Outside of the village, far away from where all the other people live, there is a small hut. They built it close to the beach, where the waves can still be heard at night, trying to drown out the nightmares still haunting them every day.
Relationships: Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	the hut outside the village

**Author's Note:**

> i never felt the need to write a safe haven fic but here we are. it's rather descriptive and i just tried to have some fun (?) with it, so i hope you'll enjoy it. <3
> 
> and if you need anything to listen to i highly recommend crywolf

Outside of the village, far away from where all the other people live, there is a small hut. Countless thunderstorms have left their marks on the dark wood that used to be the colour of the sand at the beach and ivy is crawling up the tiny cracks in the wood. Ivy had been in the lives of the people who live there for as long as they can remember. And it would probably never let them go.

Just like the nightmares that still come back every night, even thirty years after they have gained their freedom. Freedom that never feels completely free. Freedom that is tainted by horrible memories creeping around the corner as soon as they close their eyes, tainted by nightmares that sometimes feel realer than their actual lives. Like the certain feeling of someone being behind you, someone that keeps following you everywhere you go, never to be caught.

And even in the happier moments, when the setting sun sends dancing shimmers over the waves, gently crashing against the shore or when the youngest kids of the community play their silly little games, making everyone around them laugh, darkness is always lurking somewhere. And it mostly comes crashing down with one single thought.

_He could have been here._

Brenda still remembers the day the builders finished the hut. And even to this day, she’s convinced that it has to be one of Gally’s best works, no matter the impressive structures he has developed since. She loves visiting the little hut, especially on the warm summer nights when they sit on its porch, the salty ocean air curling through their hair. And still, there is always the feeling of something missing, an absence that no one can deny.

Brenda wishes she could have gotten to know him better.

Maybe the hut would be bigger if he would be with them. Just some extra space for the three of them, maybe another room and a bigger porch where he would be sitting next to them, gently humming along when Minho pulled out his guitar that Gally’s daughter had built for him. She is a lot more delicate than her old man and Brenda loved teasing him about it.

And maybe if he would have made it, the lines on Thomas’ forehead wouldn’t be so deep, forcefully traced in there through all those years that didn’t let him forget his past. They make him look years older than he actually is, but despite Brenda’s brash nature, she never teases him about it. Only Minho is actually allowed to do it and for some reason, he always gets a smile in return.

Thomas and Minho spend a lot of their time away from the main part of the village. They used to come by more often but with the years, the visits became less frequent. And yet, whenever they are around people seek out for them to have a chat and are greeted with warm smiles and hearty laughs. The younger ones know fairly well that neither Thomas nor Minho would ever refuse to play with them if asked nicely and, well, Thomas is probably responsible for more broken windows than most of the kids.

They bring happiness into their community, yet Brenda knows how badly they are hurting inside. She thinks about it often, how two people who have been through so much and who have lost their dearest friends, can still bring so much positive energy into other people’s lives.

Most of the children are too young to remember what happened, they only know about it from the stories told at the campfires down at the beach, hearing about all those adventures while roasting sausages over the heat and tossing sticks into the flames. Because to them, that’s what these stories are. Adventures. And the older ones, the ones who had to live this nightmare, they are the heroes.

None of them feels like a hero at all.

Sometimes they join the campfire nights and tell their story firsthand and Brenda can’t deny that Minho is the best at it. He tells the kids about his friends, about the ones who can’t be here with them. At times, he even manages to make it feel like they are with them, painting a picture of their personalities that makes Brenda’s heart ache, longing for a reality where all of them could be together, sitting around the fire and talking about the past like Minho does.

Thomas doesn’t join these nights often and when he does, he stays quiet for the most of it, sitting close to Minho while looking into the flames absently. Brenda can only imagine who he’s thinking about.

Minho has always been better at hiding his emotions than Thomas, who is an open book on most days. Brenda doesn’t want to imagine how he would be doing if it wasn’t for Minho, who barely ever leaves his side. And if he does, it’s possible that you see Minho walking around on his own. But never Thomas.

Maybe he is scared of losing him as well. Maybe he’s scared that without Minho, he’s more vulnerable than he is to begin with. Minho is a strong presence, protecting him from the world around him. At least that’s how Brenda sees them.

But no matter how strong and indestructible Minho might seem from the outside, there are still signs of the ongoing storm inside of his heart. Sometimes, Brenda won’t see the two of them for days or even weeks, in which they avoid the village and stay in their own safe space.

Brenda doesn’t know what they are doing when they lock themselves away and she doesn’t need to either. If she’s lucky, she’ll catch a glimpse of someone entering the hut on her morning walk. And for once, she knows what they are doing in those early morning hours, when the sun is just slowly peaking over the horizon, bathing the ocean in beautiful oranges and purples.

She has never caught them, but she knows that there are visiting the rock. The rock where all the names of the ones left behind are carved in, slowly overgrown by moss and damaged by the salty air. Some of the names are barely visible anymore but somehow, there is always someone who takes care of the carvings, who takes care that the names won’t fade into oblivion.

Brenda knows that she can’t do anything for them in these weeks, at least not directly. However, she always makes sure that they’ve got everything they might need, leaving baskets with fresh vegetables and fruits from the garden by their door when the lights inside are already off at night. She made it her job to protect the two when they are too broken to do it themselves. That’s why she makes sure that no one even dares to bother them, always having one eye on the hut in the distance.

She knows that they will return to the village eventually. And she knows that they will act like nothing had happened. And no one will question it because there’s no need for an explanation. They all know that all it takes for Thomas and Minho to get better is themselves. That it’s all they need to heal.

Outside of the village, far away from where all the other people live, there is a small hut. The people who live inside of it are tortured by nightmares and memories that will never let them go. It’s close to the beach, where the waves crash against the shore, calming their minds at least to a point where closing their eyes doesn’t cause them a pain to the chest anymore. The ivy gently sways in the wind, distracting from the storm inside of their hearts.

_He would have loved it here._


End file.
